THE PASSING OF THE S*NIOR
A "CO-ED" INCIDENT.
Oh yes, I am sorry to see youou,
Now that it’s over and you’re A. B.
Properly grieved and all that, you know;
Just a touch less than you, you’ll see
“We shall meet somewhere again I hope,
Some time!”—Yes, when you’re fifty and fat,
And my husband has gotten a fortune from
– so p.
Or tin or a commonplace something like that.
And you’ll put up your glasses and say,
“Oh, yes,
I believe that I knew you at old K. U.”
And I shall say, “What is the name? Hark-
ow”
—Oh W bite! Was it you or your brother,
I knew!
For you will forget in a year or so
And I in a twelve month—perhaps eleven,
That we were—just good friends, you know.
In a college town in 97.
—CLARA GATRELL LYNN.
"A Horry Head is a Crown of Honor
It if be found in the way of righteousness.
A borey crown may prove a time-worn head
Amid the clouds, above the soil of earth,
Or it may be a whited sepulchre
Conceaing the corruption hid within.
Gray hairs are but gray hairs, and honor honor.
If "11" the wearing days and rights and years
Have seen that head in labor with good deeds
And planning for the welfare of mankind;
If every whitened hair upon that crown
Was blenched to pureness by a loving care
For God's poor, or the devils', which they be
Or paled in horror at some hideous wrong
Or worn out by sorrow; then were that head ined a crown of honor.
But if that head so heavy with the years
Were heavier yet with sin, if all its cares
Had been to grind out usury from the poor,
Benedict had to leave it.
By treading lowly merit under foot;
If every shifting breeze had found those sails
Trimmed to its breeze; if the struggling good
Had only found ambiguous comfort there;
Those hairs were but so many witnesses
10 to the curbstone of a draughtier.
— W. H. CARRUTH.
UN MAUVAIS QUART
d'HEURE
I was starting down town the other morning when my wife's voice arrested me at the edge of the pavement. "Henry," s he called, "Don't forget that you're going down town with me to get my hat. I'll be down at the office at lunch time." The door closed.
Whether other wives practice this method of clinching a bargain when the eyes of the world is, upon a man, and the street car conductor is executing a fine bit of staccato-agitato with the bell cord, I don't know; but I do know that this device has found favor with Julia—Furthermore, Julia knows that though I may have declared for the third time at breakfast that I will offer myself as a candidate for the rack before I will do the particular thing she asks, I am clay in her hands when she attacks me through a crack in the front door.
Lunch time found me nervously awaiting my wife, who presently appeared, as serene a creature as ever oppressed a husband.
"What's the matter with the hat you've got on?" I ventured to inquire, gazing at her with admiration.
"This!" with a face of horror, "why, Henry Parkinson, this is my summer hat!" and with an expression in her eyes which intimated that my stupidity would in the death of her before many months, my wife shook the dust of my office matting from her feet and proceeded with majesty in the direction of the elevator.
She maintained a severe silence in the cable-car until we had reached Jewett street, where the usual number of shopping women and school children who take lunch at the Colonial began to stream out of the car. Suddenly Julia nudged my elbow, her gaze riveted upon the gaiters of the old gentleman opposite,—"look quick Henry," she muttered, "the girl next to the girl with glasses,—the one with the green Russian blouse, on and the square parcel, and the little girl in red shoes. That's the kind I want, with a velvet crown and agigrettes in the back!"
I peered carefully up and down the aisle, endeavoring to stow away in their proper pigeon holes, the half dozen details presented to me, and searching through my mental dictionary for the word aigrette.
Julia gave me a look, compounded of reproach and disgust, the look she wears when I fancy she is regretting our marriage.
"I don't see any red shoes," I was at last forced to admit.
"We will get off at the next street," she friedily remarked.
The establishment of Mrs. Clyde Van Brant Smithers, Fashionable Milliner and Modiste, is to be found on Upper Court street, one block east of the Stockbridge station, and straight across from the postoffice. I shall be able to tell you this valuable fact, as well as the exact shades in Mrs. Mithers' very correct necktie, and which of her front teeth is adorned with a gold filling should you have any use for this information twenty years from today.
I think Ika herself was a little impressed as we made our way down Mrs.
Clyde's reception room between rows of elegant lay figures, exhibiting every possible and impossible style of coiflure and every degree of waxen innancy As for me, I was abject, and become more and more so as I caught sight of my familiar overcoat reflected from a half dozen full length mirrors.
A stalwart woman, wearing a remarkable gown and an equally remarkable smile, came forward to meet us.
"You would like to try something in a large hat," said this august person with the air of one who does not invite contradiction.
"I guess I'll look at small ones, something quite simple," my wife returned.
"They are not wearing small hats this season," announced Mrs. C. V. Smithers bening a cold blue eye upon my poor Julia. "How do you like this?" producing a towering structure of shiney material, trimmed with some sort of green stuff and blue feathers. "This royal blue is really very swell, and these fish scales are on all the pattern hats."
"Oh, I want something plain and pretty," pleaded my wife.
"Pretty!" gasped Mrs. Smithers, "why this is simply beautiful, and so genteel. You could wear it in New York City any day. Nothing is plain this year."
"Try this.—I'm sure your husband will like this. It's a perfectly lovely thing and just look at that crown! One of these braided felts was worn by Mrs. Gerald Fitz Doolan at the horse show last week. Just try it on, my dear. There, well over the eyes, and a trifle to one side." She set upon my wife's head a monstrosity in red orange and navy blue.
"Do take-it-off, protested Julia, 'I'm sure it isn't becoming."
Mrs. Clyde clasped her hands and allowed a shade of pain to creep over her well disciplined features. "I'm sure it was simply made for her!" and she appealed to a blond-haired, wasp-waisted young person, hovering in our vicinity. "You really couldn't wear a little hat, your face is much too short and round for a little hat," appealing once more to her blond assistant.
"But I won't have a big hat," Julia assured her with attempt at firmness. Whereupon Mrs. Smithers with the air of one who allows herself to be put to base uses, brought forward a tiny affair over which brooded a solemn fowl, having the head of a parrot and the body of a woodcock.
"Oh, I couldn't wear a bird," gasped Julia, recalling, doubtless, certain moral instructions of hers to the children. "I should be so swicked."
Mrs. Clyde Van Brant Smithers eyes us both with stern disapproval. "Birds are worn by every body, she announced, and set the despised hat with careful violence upon its proper peg
"Now here is the sweetest thing we have it in the shop," interrupted the blond assistant, with conciliatory intent, holding up for the ravishment of my senses a ghastly green and yellow creation, glistening with rhinestone and surmounted by swaying black plumes.
"Just notice the development of the color scheme," demanded she of the blond hair and the contracted waist.
I noticed it.
"It's only $13, she confided, and will you just look at those tips." "Really I couldn't afford that," objected Julia, who wanted new dining room chairs and even dreamed of an art square for the back parlor. "Besides it wouldn't be suitable for the mother of a family, would it?"
"Well, I guess I'll come in aggin, that is, I will wait till next week—Oh, I mean I will go some where else, faltered my truthful Julia; and we crept out, smiled upon by waxen lay figures in pattern hats, and glared at by Mrs. Clyde Van Brant Smithers. M.
"It has been very much admired by people of taste" observed Mrs. Clyde with waxing spirit.
People expect to see Vassar overlooking the Hudson, and several dignified buildings near Poughkeepsie, within sight of the river, are often pointed out as Vassar college. The college, however, is not on the river. It is two miles east and not within sight of the Hudson. Nevertheless the grounds of Vassar are very beautiful and in the loveliness of spring one is sure that nothing unless it were the constant presence of a fine stream could add to their charms. Evergreens are everywhere. The avenue leading to the main building is lined with them; the athletic grounds are enclosed by a thick hedge of them; not so thick, however, but that a reporter's eye can pierce their depth on an annual field day; fine cedars form the walls and roof of a beautiful walk called "The Pines," in whose shade one can see in fine weather students walking and talking. There are other walks, one winding through the glen, another climbing to the top of "Sunset Hill," both beautiful, and made more so in winter by scattering groups of rosy-faced girls in red Tams, in summer, by shirt waist girls with
VASSAR
bunches of little purple violets in their hands. Near the lodge is a pretty little lake with a few boats on it. Around its edge the trees lean to see the reflection of their tall, beautiful selves in the water. The beauty of this lake has been the subject of many a freshman's theme. There are "Sunsets on the Lake," "Twilights on the Lake" and "Lakes in Winter," and scores of them. Strange to say, I never heard of a "Sunrise on the Lake."
The buildings at Vassar are motley Main hall, the largest one, is old and plain, for the bricks are faded and worn. It is a fine example of pure Renaissance. Strong Hall, which was built by Mr. Rockefeller, is handsome and new and presents a striking contrast with old Main. The effect is almost as glaring as that of a Scotch plaid would be if it were placed next to a soft toned old Indian shawl. There are, besides these, two new buildings, just finished, one of which the college owes to the generosity of Mr. Rockefeller. The gymnasium I cannot pass without saying that it is the finest women's gymnasium in this country. The Vassar Brothers' Laboratories, ivy-covered, Music Hall, and the quaint old observatory where Maria Mitchell "lived and labored" complete the list of college buildings. Thirty years ago, you know, Vassars was known to most people as the place where Maria Mitchell was. You might know the place immediately even from the rather foreign looking lodge at the entrance, to the south of the little stream that flows through the glen, but you really would not know Vassar until you had become acquainted with the life of its students. The life of Vassar girls and in fact all college girls is generally represented to be a rosy lined affair, with no gray. In this conception a college girl sits on a couch loaded with beautiful pillows, twanging the strings of her guitar, while an open box of Huyler's occupies the study table where an open book ought to be. Sometimes college life is treated rather frivolously but that attitude does not usually last long. A mid-year examination or a "flunk note" usually terminates it and makes life turn "gray not rosy."
A simple account of what a Vassar girl must do will give an idea of the earnestness that must be hers if she succeeds at all. One of the first things a student does on coming here is to sign the Constitution of the Self Government Association, which means that she pledges herself to have her light out at 10 o'clock, to take one hour's exercise and to attend chapel daily. Then there are five days hard work. The rising bell rings at 7 o'clock; breakfast is at 7:30; recitations begin at 8:30 and end at 5:30. Everyone has at least three recitations a day. Music is extra. Three hours of recitations, six hours of preparation for the following day one hour's exercise, chapel and meals, besides committee work and incidentals require concentration and work for their accomplishment before the 10 o'clock bell.
I do not mean to say that college has not its play days, for it has, and the students take hold of the fun in the same hearty spirit in which the work is done. For instance, the night the juniors decided to give the wedding. It was just after the Vanderbilt-Mariborough ceremony, so they proposed to give again that service, making alterations to have it as ludicrous as possible. It was given in Strong hall. The tables were taken out of the dining room and the chairs arranged as would befit a chapel. Palms and flowers were brought in for the occasion, and all this was being done when the ceremony itself was not yet arranged. While some girls were furnishing rhymes and ideas for the completion of the service, others were hastening in all directions to gather the costumes. This is the spirit in which Vassar girls accomplish their work and play. At about 8 o'clock the bridal party entered, preceded by choir boys, who sang to the tune of the wedding Song from Lohengrin:
"Now all you guests,
So handsomely dressed,
Trying to appear at your very best.
You've all got the mon,
But you can't have the fun
Of marying your girl to an Englishman."
Queen Victoria was there, all the Vanderbiltts, the Duke and Duchess of Marlborough, and all New York society. The service was witty. The wedding party came out singing to Mendelssohn's Wedding March:
"Here comes Willie's daughter, and the Duke who came and sought her, Now he'll take across the water Con, and her father's million dollars. Come and see the wedding presents! Diamonds, galore! Ho! for the Marlborough jewels! By which they set such store."
It was one of the finest burlesques, and nobody who was there will ever forget the jolity and merriment over the occasion, even if it was thought up, rehearsed and performed within three hours.
Athletics are part of the college fun, for Vassar is very athletic. Tennis is general. Each class has its basket ball team, which it encourages with shouting and other man-
festations of enthusiasm in the match games, so that the field at one of the games is a beautiful and animated sight.
The girls coast in winter and in the "catacombs" of Main Hall are enough sleds to delight an army of small boys. When the snow has a good, hard crust you can hear shouts and laughter from 'Sunset Hill' where the girls are coasting.
It is hardly in place to say anything about the type of girl that comes from Vassar. There really is no such things. These are as many types as there are Vassar girls. There are shrinking, timid, modest, dainty, Vassar girls; there are mannish, forward, self confident, assertive Vassar girls. Some are pretty, and some are ugly and awkward, but they usually love Vassar. It is quite remarkable the number of girls who tell you that their mothers or aunts were here before them, and the fact that a mother or aunt will send a girl where she has been, is pretty strong proof of her loyalty to her college.
AGNES LEE.
PUNCTUATION POINTS
A young lady who knew little of football terms was invited to Lawrence to attend the Kansas-Iowa game. Upon being questioned as to the conveyance in which she expected to attend the game she replied, "I am going in the Pennsylvania coach, of course: Mrs. A. wrote me they had one."
Grant Allen thinds that it is a greater mark of ignorance to call a lobster a fish than to say "me and him went." What would he think of a young lady (a Sophmore, by the way) who did not know whether the Acropolis of Athens was a hill or a building?
Miss Young—I'm awfully sorry, indeed I am, but I have not a Friday or Saturday or Sunday night for three weeks.
Mr. Smith—O well, it's no difference,
I'm busy myself, perhaps (consulting his
note book) I can spare you fifteen minutes
about the middle of next week.
"Jane, stop a minute."
"Jane, stop a minute."
"I can't."
"Why?"
"Got a class."
"But I have something to tell you."
"Sorry."
"But it's a trade last."
"Who from?"
"O, it'll keep, if you're rushed."
"No, please tell me."
"Well, trade last."
"A Phi Gam said your new hat w
"A Phi Gam said your new hat was swell,"
"How lovely."
"A Phi Psi told me you were awfully stylish."
"Tell me mine now."
"Elles you, come and see me won't you, dear?"
In order to hear snatches of conversation on all subjects seek a secluded corner near the main stairway in Fraser hall. How varied are the thoughts of students as evinced by their conversation. One is worried almost to distraction about a quiz, another is completely absorbed in the last party or the party to come. The writer had the good fortune to record some of these fragments of talk to use in character sketches. The reader may judge the character for himself as revealed by the conversation.
The first persons to come within range of our hearing and vision were two girls who resembled each other so much that I decided at once they were sisters.
"Well, said one with a laugh, "how did you enjoy playing me last night?" Did you like my caller? You didn't say or do anything to make him think I had lost my mind, did you?"
"Really," the other girl replied, "You overwhelme我 with questions. I am afraid that in playing you so frequently I shall act like you so often that habit will become too strong for me to return to my severest self. But one thing I will tell you, and that is that you are an engaged girl."
A few exclamations of surprise, dismay,
even horror, from the first girl interrupted
the speaker, but after a few seconds she
continued:
"Let's sit upon the slairs; it's ten minutes until class time—and I will tell you about it. I wasn't a waze that things were at that interesting stage between you and Mr. A. when a mere word will precipitate a proposal. When he called I had the lights turned a little lower so he would not recognize the fact that I wasn't the dear girl he had called to see. Well, we planned about the party, talked religion, literature and the other subjects which are supposed to engross the thoughts of intellectual people. Among other things we were discussing the German custom of exchanging rings in case of betrothal instead of the girl's sweetheart doing all the giving and I accidentally spoke—"
"What are you girls plotting over? Take me into the secret too," interrupted a third girl who had come around the corner suddenly.
"O we weren't plotting anything. I was
just naming over the important points in my history lesson. It's about class time isn't it? Let's go upstairs."
For the next few minutes the halls were crowded with students passing to their various classes, hence all the conversations were so brief and fragmentary that they were not worth recording. After a time the halls became comparatively quiet again, and two boys came leisurely along pausing at the foot of the stairs. They seemed to be intensely interested in their discussion.
"We had planned to meet and overwhelm him with the surprise," said one.
"But how long has this joke been going on? I knew nothing of it," interrupted the other.
"O. last spring we conceived the idea of acting as conceit extractors. For my part I can't understand why it is that he thinks the girls take such a fancy to him, but he does nevertheless. We boys send our letters which he supposed were from this Nellie Wilbora to a friend of mine in Iowa who forwarded them to Will and forwarded us Will's replies. We boys have been meeting to write Nellie's letters and had have a good deal of sport over their composition. Now we think affairs have come to a climax and intend to show Will's epistolary productions to him. Can't you spare a little time to come to the rooms tonight? Will is to be there."
Then their conversation drifted off into channels of less interest to an outsider, We left our secluded work and walked slowly down the hill meditating on the ways and by-ways of college life.
She had come with her class from a neighboring town to "see the University." She was pretty, and affected dashing hats, and a still more dashing manner. She adored athletics and particularly football, and discussed it jovially with the men she met. She was escorted around the campus by a bevy of girls and boys, to whom she announced her intention of returning in the fall to enter shool. She had a very good time, and her announcement of it was heard all over the building.
The next fall she returned with trunks full of gay gowns, ready for the fnn of which she had had a sample.
She effusively greeted the first girl she saw whom she knew. "Why, how do you do?" said the girl hurriedly. "So you did come back. Have you registered yet!" and went on to join a circle around a girl not half so stunningly dressed as she. One of the boys who had taken her to the train said in response to her hearty greeting "and you decided to come back? I hope you'll have a good time. Oh, excuse me, there is some one I must see," and he was gone. So it went all morning she was left standing alone, wondering vaguely why. At length one of her football teams approached and began to talk to her. Instantly all her gayety returned and her laugh rang out so clear and loud, that the people in the hall turned and stared. The girls who had met her smiled, and she—she is still wondering.
She came up the hill to register full of the thought of how glad those girls would be to see her. She bad her ideas of fraternities too.
"No, I don't approve of girls wearing men's fraternity pins," said the Sophomore to a Freshman, whose dress was adorned with a Phi Psi pin. "It is not doing right toward the men of other fraternities who have probably paid you attention, for of course they feel hurt to have a girl whom they like wear a rival's pin, for the girl virtually announces that she likes one fraternity better than any other. Then too, a girl who wears a man's pin cannot expect to receive attention from any other fraternity. I feel convinced that a girl cannot do it without hurting herself.
A few days later the Sophomore appeared wearing a pin which was—well not her own. The Freshman who by the way still wore the pin, bailed her. in the hall with "why I thought you didn't approve of wearing men's fraternity pins?" "I don't" replied the Sophomore impressibly "but this is a TNE pin which is very different."
"Oh!" said the Freshman.
She was a freshman, small and pretty, very pretty, with big gray eyes that were made for firing, had she approved of it, but she didn't. The first day she was on the hill she noticed the tall, blase-looking fellow in the hall, and the next day she saw him again. That night she went to a dance where she had been invited, "to meet our girls, you know." He was there, and was almost the only man who was not introduced to her. She had a keen sense of humor, and thought it funny that she had not met him. So the next morning when she passed him on the stairs she really could not help smiling a trifle, though the big grey eyes were as serious as ever.
Within a month she had met every other member of his fraternity but him, and she saw him everywhere, passed him in the halls, bumped into him at crowded dances, and once at a dance he quite accidentally stepped Continued on sixth page.
Continued on sixth page.